


Martyr Complex

by Onlymystory



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Promises, kind of a little of both, martyr complexes, post s3 ep3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 12:41:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onlymystory/pseuds/Onlymystory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek has a martyr complex. Stiles hates it. </p><p>Set just post S3 ep3 & presumes that was a nice PLATONIC rescue between Derek & Ms. Blake because Stiles & Derek have obviously been together all summer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Martyr Complex

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbetaed. Basically it was just one of the stories I wanted to write after the latest ep (and I'm not ready to write the Erica one yet) and so I got it out. 
> 
> It's not an unhappy fic in itself, but I don't know that it will leave you all 'yay, shiny happy loveliness' at the end. Though I've heard a fair amount of you who read my stuff normally have been wanting the angst/darker stuff and that's pretty much my mindset lately.

When the door to the loft slams open, Isaac jumps, Derek flinches, and even Peter turns his head in surprise. Stiles storms inside, his ever so expressive face contorting between fear and rage. “What the hell were you thinking?!” he screams at Derek.

“Uh Stiles,” tries Isaac.

“Get out,” snaps Stiles in a low voice.

Peter heeds the tone better than Isaac, ushering both of them out the door. He can’t resist an eye-roll and a mutter about overreactions on his way out the door, but it’s quiet enough that Stiles doesn’t pick up on it.

“Stiles, calm down.”

“Calm down? I will not fucking calm down. You threw yourself in that room expecting to die!” Stiles blinks furiously at the tears in his eyes. He’s pissed as hell and he refuses to get so emotional that he can’t say what he wants to. “Never mind that the idea of either Boyd or Cora as the Alpha is a nightmare. I mean, we don’t even know anything about how Cora got there or where she’s been or anything about her over the last however many years.”

Derek interrupts, still moving slowly as his body hasn’t finished healing. “She’s my sister.”

“I don’t care,” fires back Stiles. When Derek gapes at him, Stiles corrects himself. “I don’t…I don’t mean that, exactly. I know she’s your sister and I get that this has to be a really emotional time for you and leaving her and Boyd with Deaton wasn’t easy. But _I_ don’t know Cora. I know you. I love you. And you love me and you can’t keep placing such little value on your life!”

Stiles pounds his fists against Derek’s chest until Derek finally holds his arms still. “Stiles, stop. I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry.”

Stiles’ hands fist in Derek’s shirt. “I don’t want to lose you and not know until it’s over.”

Derek nudges Stiles’ chin up so he has to look at him. “You aren’t going to lose me.” It’s not a lie. It’s not the truth either. But then, that’s what promises really are. Hope and things we wish we could guarantee even when we know life is most likely to bring about the opposite. He kisses Stiles, deep and claiming. He’s here now.

“You don’t get to break that promise,” insists Stiles, though he won’t look in Derek’s eyes. You have to lie to yourself to believe someone else’s lie too.

Derek just kisses him again, pulls Stiles flush against him and runs his hands under Stiles’ shirt, carefully caressing skin even as his lips are harsh and demanding.

Stiles’ legs come up and wrap around Derek. If he holds on tight enough, he won’t lose him.

As the night goes on, they tune out any outside noises, ignore the dangers that lurk at every turn, push today’s problems until tomorrow, and just as they have all summer, focus on losing themselves in each other. It’s always easier than it should be. Simpler and more natural than most of their friends or family would expect.

Derek’s hands move all over, at his most frantic in these stolen moments. If he can touch Stiles’ everywhere, maybe he can understand him and if he understands, he can keep this.

Stiles, in turn, slows down. He rides Derek in steady, achingly slow movements, locking him in place. His thighs bracket Derek in place, keep him from running away, while his eyes never leave Derek’s gaze. Stiles can’t let Derek disappear.

They come together, bodies slick with sweat and eyes glistening more than ever seems fair.

Hours later, when the night is dark and near what people call the witching hour, when Stiles lifts his head from Derek’s chest and gazes down at him. “Why do you keep trying to get yourself killed?” He means it to sound joking, snarky as always with only a hint of seriousness in his tone. The words come out much softer and Stiles’ voice cracks a little as he speaks.

“I’m not…” protests Derek.

“Yes, you are,” answers Stiles. “Please don’t lie to me.” His hand reaches out to stroke along Derek’s temple, the way he always does when Derek looks particularly vulnerable.

Derek’s eyes water and he cups Stiles’ chin in his hand, thumb rubbing patterns into Stiles’ cheek. “I’m not trying to die. I promise you that. Stiles, my world…”

“Our world,” Stiles interrupts.

“Our world is dangerous. Everywhere we turn someone is in danger or dying and needs to be saved. I don’t know how to sit back and let that happen when I can help.”

“I don’t want you to die,” chokes Stiles.

Derek smiles at him, soft and resigned. “Neither do I. But if I don’t do it, you will.”

“So?” His voice is broken and ragged and he doesn’t care. Of course he’s going to save his friends. Derek should know that by now.

“I can’t lose you, Stiles.”

“So I have to lose you instead? How the fuck is that fair?!”

Derek tugs Stiles’ up enough to kiss him. Neither mentions the salty taste on each others’ lips or the way Stiles’ teeth pull at Derek’s lip or how Derek’s nails dig into Stiles’ sides. “I swear to you,” promises Derek, “I will do everything I can not to let that happen.”

Stiles kisses Derek again, makes his own promises, clings tightly before settling back to sleep. It’s enough for now. Besides, he knows that late nights are the only time either of them believes such things could be true.

In the real world, things are different. Derek carries too much guilt to risk other lives. Stiles has his own guilt and fears and unwavering determination that no one else gets to die on his watch.

Derek’s never going to stop running into situations he shouldn’t.  Letting go of the memories that haunt him isn’t possible, not for him, and all the therapy in the world is unlikely to heal him enough to take away his need for just one death to not be his fault.

And if Stiles isn’t off saving someone himself, he’ll be right behind Derek. Right beside him.

They take their moments where they can find them. It’s the only time they can pretend they don’t know how this ends.


End file.
